Weaving Out A Dream
by NicoleLightwood
Summary: A terrible curse is upon a beautiful, young, fiery-headed maiden. Cursed to weave a tapestry for all her life, and only catching glimpses of the kingdom and the outside world in her enchanted mirror. Look out the window, and her beloved kingdom will fall into winter for eternity. All is changed when Sir Herondale arrives. Loosely based on the poem 'The Lady of Shalott". Oneshot.


**A/N: Heyyy, my fellow fanfictioners! Great to know you guys had the epicness to click on the story! I love fairytales and kingdoms and all that stuff, so I decided to write a one-shot fanfic based on the poem '_The Lady of Shalott' _by Alfred Lord Tennyson. **

**Scroll down to see what happens! :D Oh, and merry early Christmas, the updates for Dreaming of Paradise and Broken Glass Hearts WILL, I promise, be before or on Christmas.**

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~o~_In a Faraway Land~o~_

Once upon a time, in an isle that sat in the river of a distant kingdom, there was a fair young maiden named Clary. She had long, wavy, dark red hair that reached her elbows, and dazzling emerald green eyes.

She was slightly stubborn and foolish, but little bits of those elements, would, of course cause you trouble get you somewhere one day.

She lived in a tall tower on the isle, which was named Alicante. It was in the middle of the river that ran down from a kingdom called Idris.

One day, Clary, without really thinking, used powerful, forbidden magic and then immediately a deadly, cruel curse was upon her.

She was cursed to weave a tapestry in her tower for the rest of her life, and if she ever looked out her window, the kingdom of Idris would vanish, desert and die down and face a never-ending, cold winter unless she sacrificed herself to the curse than allowing Idris to fall.

And so, Clary, of course, not wanting the beautiful kingdom of Idris to crumble into snow and coldness and darkness because of her, she weaved and weaved everyday on her tapestry for years instead of looking out her window or doing any harmful or stupid acts.

She reflected on the past years of her life, and how she had foolishly used forbidden and dangerous magic.

Which was, actually the cause of a magical mirror which showed her the things happening in Idris and Alicante. As life went by, her tapestry had gotten longer and longer, and Clary was lonelier and lonelier and sadder and sadder. She saw everything in the mirror.

Weddings, funerals, pairs of lately-weds, market girls, the little village which was inside Idris, people having fun and laughing, a rainbow of lights in the distance, people buying, selling and trading in markets.

Knights came trotting through Idris pair by pair. She would never ever have one. Everything in Idris. Clary sighed. She longed to see the beauties of the outside world, and if possible to feel and taste and hear it again.

~O~

One day, a brave knight with shining silver swords came riding through the yellow fields of barley on his brown horse. Of course, he appeared on Clary's enchanted mirror.

He trotted calmly beside Idris while Clary gazed at him in a trance. He crossed the bridge that led him across the river to Alicante.

The glowing yellow sun shone through the leaves and blazed on his golden curls as he rode towards Alicante. Threaded gold words were embroidered on his billowing red cape. '_Herondale'._

The mirror flashed away from the handsome, beautiful knight as Clary frowned in despair. She wanted to watch him as much as she liked to and yet she couldn't any more.

In three big steps she ran, leaving her mirror and her tapestry and into her window room. Her eyes landed on the windowsill, her face glowing.

She was struck by admiration and love and calmly opened the window.

Clary looked down at the fields of barley and of rye, the willows, aspens, waterlilies and the beautiful plants she had looked at in the mirror.

She saw the broad stream running wild and she saw Idris, and finally it not from the mirror. With the walls, the market, the farm, the castle, everything Idris was.

She saw the silver helmet, she saw the red plume, she saw the flowing cape. She saw the blonde hair and golden eyes. Immediately, out flew the tapestry of mazy patterns, five years' worth of work.

The enchanted mirror that Clary once called beautiful cracked from side to side as shards of glass dropped from the mirror to the ground, each shard shattering into a thousand pieces. Clary received the full power of the curse.

She took in the full curse to spare Idris from its certain death and frantically clambered down the stairs of her tower, her weaving stick clasped firmly in her hand.

Clary saw the golden knight looking back at her as she stepped into a boat. She was about to paddle down the stream when he stopped her.

The luminous golden eyes stared into hers as he planted a soft, gentle kiss on her lips and watched her silently. Clary smiled despite the agony inside her.

Then her lips, her cheeks and everywhere in her body flooded with a lingering, soft, warm sensation, as she gently padded out of the boat, dipping both her feet in the water.

She then started to float down the clear blue stream to her death. Using her last moment, she scrawled words, hard onto the boat with her weaving stick, using all her might.

Her eyes were open long enough to see the knight leaning over her, her tapestry in one hand. She died peacefully, welcoming her death as if it was a gentle, soft caress from Sir Herondale.

_~o~MANY YEARS LATER~o~_

An empty little wooden boat was found on the coast of Alicante. It had started to go rotten from its years in the river and out to the ocean from Alicante. It smelled terrible, but otherwise it was in a good condition.

Jace Herondale, now the King of Idris after he pulled out the sword and managed to overthrow Sebastian.

He walked to the coast, holding the beautiful girl's tapestry as he gazed at the withered wooden boat. Nothing was found inside, but something was found on the outside of the boat.

He, of course, did know the story. This was the boat that reminded him of the fiery red curls, the sparkling green eyes, slight freckles and rosy skin were alive and vivid in his mind.

He could picture the maiden laughing and dancing and singing as easy as picturing Excalibur in his grip.

He had never knew her, not even her name but it was love at first sight.

He examined the boat. Messy words carved into the side of the boat.

His heart skipped a beat. Now he knew her name.

'_For Idris thy hath sacrificed. May thy watch thou golden knight from above.'_

'_Clarissa.'_

~o~_The End_~o~

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**Okay! I hope you enjoyed it! Credits to my amazing friends who helped me edit and read this story before it was out, PenWonder22 and sesamecoatedstoriezz (Or maybe Alfred Lord Tennyson). If you want to see the full poem (and English class) that motivated me to write this up, search '_The Lady of Shalott' _on google or anything. **

**PLEASE review to tell me if the oneshot was good or not! Your opinion, always, ALWAYS matters!**

**Okay, now back to working on Dreaming of Paradise! :)x**

**-Nicole**


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